


Peak

by PunkHazard



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3235463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Air is thin at 2,400 meters above sea level.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peak

Air is thin at 2,400 meters above sea level. Stone doesn't seem to mind it, once they've finished up Cassandra's first assignment, and he manages to talk his way past the security at Machu Picchu with some of his advanced archaeological jargon. He'd asked Cassandra and Ezekiel if they'd want to join him and Ezekiel's answer was 'Absolutely not' while Cassandra'd looked torn a for a moment before cringing at the complexity of the city's layout.

They settle down at the edge of a terrace looking over the Sacred Valley, Jones with a heavy bag of supplies he'd declined to describe for them and Cassandra with a lighter, smaller pack full of food and supplies. She hadn't had trouble for the first part of the day, but ever since her first glimpse of Machu Picchu, was feeling lightheaded and woozy.

"Here," Ezekiel says, dropping a canister of oxygen and a face mask into her lap, exchanging it for an apple he'd glimpsed in her bag earlier that day, "your brain's doing the thing again, right? Can't be easy without oxygen."

"Thanks," she answers quietly, fitting the mask over her nose and inhaling slowly as she presses down on the release. "That helps a lot."

"Brought it for myself," he replies dismissively, winding up to throw his apple core into the valley before Cassandra gives him a warning look, "I mean, have you googled altitude sickness? Scary stuff. Didn't need it, glad I hauled it up that stinkin' mountain anyway."

Cassandra says nothing, once her nausea begins to recede. She watches Jones root through her pack for food instead, the other LIT deftly moving its contents aside to get at a ham sandwich, making just about no noise while he goes about it and moving things instinctively back how he'd found them. 

(World-class thief, he mutters when he catches her looking, gotta stay sharp.) 

"It's not that," Cassandra tells him, taking a sandwich for herself and handing over a bottle of water once he wolfs his lunch down in about four big bites. "I'm just new to this."

"To what?"

"This team thing."

Cocking his head to the side, Jones gives her his best I'll-probably-regret-asking face and says, "What do you mean?"

"I don't," Cassandra starts, then pauses. After a deep breath, she starts over. "I haven't had a lot of chances to form... you know, meaningful... relationships. Make friends. Braingrape kind of gets in the way." 

Ezekiel doesn't respond, his expression open and curious, though she detects a hint of anger behind the almost imperceptible crease between his brows. He's idly sucking on his teeth, probably trying to get the last remnants of that sandwich out of his mouth, hands fiddling with the bottle. 

"Hospital visits," she clarifies, "and it's inoperable, and I guess the f-- the people I spent time with thought I was a bit of a downer. It's understandable."

"It's not like you talk about it all the time," he says, looking away as he wrenches the cap off his bottle. Ezekiel doesn't miss how she'd paused before she would've said 'friends'-- 'cause what kind of friends would abandon someone over a brain tumor? Even he knows one has to make up a trivial reason and time the break right, or else you've just been an asshole. "I mean you're smart," he continues, gaining momentum as he speaks, "and not bad to be around, if I do say so myself. And since I'm awesome and find you tolerable, everyone who doesn't is just a ratbag."

"That's not really how it works."

"That's completely how it works," he declares. "It's science. You can't deny science, miss mathemagician. Accept it. What's so funny?"

Fighting back a snicker, Cassandra schools her face and shakes her head. "Nothing!"

"It's my accent, isn't it? Crikey, that's so racist."

"Stop!"

Ezekiel grins, so wide his eyes curve into little half-moons. Then the expression softens, his mouth pulling sideways into a wry smile. "Not really getting close to other people," he points out, extending his opened bottle of water toward her, then grabbing another and pocketing both caps, "that's something you, me and Cowboy all have in common. He's got that personality, you've got your braingrape, and I'm a lone wolf type handsome rogue, so--"

He trails off, waiting for Cassandra to stop laughing. When she does, she turns away for a few seconds and he pretends not to see her swipe the back of her hand over her eyes. If he'd known dialing up his accent would have made her laugh so hard, he'd find it a pretty simple deal to do it more often--

It takes a monumental amount of effort to not jerk away when Cassandra reaches for his face, thin fingers brushing a fringe of hair back and running softly through. "I'm glad you and Stone are here," she says firmly, "but I think you already know that."

Fidgeting, Jones kicks his feet and stuffs his sandwich wrapper into his now-empty bottle before returning the thing to Cassandra's supply bag. "You could stand to say it more," he suggests stiffly, trying to play it off, though he doesn't move away from her.

"Oh, be quiet. I'm trying to have a moment here."

"You don't wanna be having this moment with Stone too? I mean, I'm not totally comfortable with moments. It's only fair."

"Oh." Cassandra winces, pulling her hand back, eyes darting toward the ruins behind them before her gaze lands back on him. Sheepishly, "Oh, no. He still doesn't trust me. And he's so old. I'm glad he's with us, but we'd never have this conversation."

"He doesn't trust anyone," Jones sighs. "Neither, for that matter, do I. Maybe you should be flattered that he actually admits it to your face."

She looks mildly saddened by that, so Ezekiel makes a note to himself to turn up the accent another notch the next time he says something. Which ought to be soon. "Maybe you're right," Cassandra murmurs, almost to herself. "I can't force him to accept anyone, but we can appreciate having him around, right? Besides, he won't survive if he doesn't learn to use a GPS soon."

"I know! You know he asked me what Reddit was? Reddit! He has an IQ of a hundred-bloody-ninety!"

" _Ezekiel,_ " Cassandra reprimands, gently as far as she's concerned. He throws his head back and laughs.

Hours later, Stone finds Cassandra pointing out constellations while Jones tries desperately to stay awake, though his head keeps nodding toward her shoulder. Jake's covered in dust and dirt, bits of debris falling out of his clothes every time he moves, face like he'd had the time of his life. He expects a few jabs from their resident thief, but Ezekiel takes one look at him and declares that he's too worn out to take the shots he would've any other day.

For what it's worth, Jake appreciates it more than he's willing to say that no one's about to rain on his parade. 

Not that he thinks he's wasted their time or anything-- when they step through the portal back to the Library, Jones throws one arm over Cassandra's shoulder and tugs her against his side. She lets him.


End file.
